#some non-masters for once

[sunlessea]

How are you ruined? ft the "too human" squad

adrien / ruined by trauma

you cannot get over the past. you are constantly remembering, never forgetting. you cant live in the moment because the moment is not what brought you here. you are birthed, raised, and killed in the past. you will never get over what was done to you, be it big or be it small. you cannot escape what you refuse to confront.

winter / ruined by apathy

you cant bring yourself to care. you hate that you cant feel what you used to be able to feel. you hate that you cant be happy. you hate that you cant bring yourself to actually hate. your apathy has swallowed you and immersed you in a well of nothingness. you cant feel what you cant forget. you cant see what you close your eyes to. you choose to feel nothing, and you have lost everything because of it.

elysium / ruined by loneliness

you are so lonely. you are miserable in your solitude. you hate that you cannot bring yourself to reach out, to ask for help. you will be forgotten by all who never knew you. your biggest fear is that you will die alone, and you know this fear will be seen to fruition. you refuse to extend yourself beyond the box that others put you in. and it is a box that no one dare come near. you are lonely because you are afraid of yourself.

lucius / ruined by fear

you live on the edge of your seat, but it is not a good thing. youre constantly looking over your shoulder, unsure of what will hurt you next. you have been hurt so much, but you refuse to adapt to your pain. instead, you avoid what you cannot control. you are so afraid of making a mistake, of being brought closer to your doom. but, despite this, you cannot articulate what you fear. you are just afraid. only afraid. and you will be afraid until you are brought to what you fear.

moriarty / ruined by fury

you are angry. you are angry and everyone knows it. the fire within you will not die, cannot die. for if it dies, you wont have a reason to burn. your rage simmers close to your chest, it boils near something you wont touch. you are angry because it is easier than anything else. you are angry because you choose it over pain. you are ruined because you cannot feel anything but your own ire.

[thefirstknife]

Getting real sick of a certain subset of Destiny players complaining that it’s a baby game and crying to Bungie to nerf exotics and abilities when their ENTIRE POINT IS TO BE STRONG in specific ways as if they are being locked into using them.

IF YOU WANT AN EXTRA CHALLENGE STOP BEING SUCH A DPS GOBLIN AND JUST EQUIP SOMETHING THATS NOT TOP TIER META AND STOP COMPLAINING JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

MOOD. Go off.

It's incredibly annoying to me. They always use the argument of "the game should FORCE me to do things, I should not SELF-IMPOSE challenges." And like. ? I'm sorry but what? It's a video game for a big audience, it's here to be playable and accessible to the widest possible playerbase. There are plenty of ways to make the game difficult for yourself, so knock yourself out if that's your thing, but don't force others into it.

Like, I enjoy hard content, I regularly at least attempt day 1 raids, I do master raids, GMs, solo and solo flawless content and all that. But only when I want to. Sometimes I don't and I don't want to suffer in a patrol zone or struggle in a seasonal activity I'm doing for the story. The majority of the players don't want that. Designing games for the professional gamers only has NEVER been a good idea and never will be. Fifty streamers can't sustain a video game. It needs casual players who will want to come back to the game instead of feeling defeated.

One of the reasons I really enjoy helping others is because I know that casual players tend to struggle in stuff that's basic activity for me. I've seen people unable to get through a strike. I've sat for 10 minutes rezing someone who couldn't do the jump in a seasonal activity. I want those people to be able to play basic content without feeling frustrated and I want them to know that there are people out there who will help them out.

And this doesn't apply just to basic content, although it should start with that. I think all dungeons and raids and everything should be things that all players can complete. Fine, doing a master raid with all challenges should be tough, but it should be achievable with time and practice, not impossible. What a lot of these "pros" want is just completely divorced from reality.

It takes days and days of practice every time a new master raid is out for me and my team (all with thousands of hours of playtime) to get comfortable to finally finish it. We're far from casual players and it still takes a lot of time to be able to finish hard content. Making it even harder is insane to me. Like, if something is so hard that my team full of people, each with 5000+ hours of playtime and a coordinated team that's been raiding together for years now can't finish it, that means it's absolutely impossible for probably 90% of the playerbase. That's wild to me. Raids and GMs should have more people playing them. If master raids are too easy for you, Mr. I-Play-Destiny-For-A-Living, that's on you buddy. Unequip the super god tier god roll meta guns and loadouts or play something else.

And ofc, another excuse they make is "if I don't use meta, I am not going to win a raid race!" Then don't. Idk. Let me play you the tiniest violin. This affects literally nobody except a grand total of 50 people. Run your meta in day 1, and play with random shit otherwise. Play raids with all white weapons. Play without mods. Play without a HUD. Do things solo only. I don't know, make up a way to spice things up for yourself. I'm not interested in that and neither are 99% of the players out there. The game is genuinely hard enough for the majority of the players. On top of that, I am here to feel like a powerful space fantasy superhero. I am NOT here to die to dregs in patrol zones. If there's ONE thing that I know for a fact that put people off from Lightfall (as in this year of Destiny), it's the difficulty changes. They're annoying, frustrating and for some a barrier to entry more than anything else.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

But what about men when they're bruised & bloodied

[murkshade]

Ok currently have 39 requests for the icons so I may be a little slow

[kalims]

⊹ giving them flowers

premise. no plot we are just giving them flowers cause guys deserve some too <3

content. fluff, mini scenarios, azul turns into a silly nerd (affectionate)

featuring. jamil, sebek, riddle, azul.

note. actually accidentally posted this yesterday and got a heart attack (also an actual consistent posting schedule...?)

jamil gives you a look.

he spares a long stare at the bouquet you clutch between your hands, wearing an awfully cheeky grin that's chipping off the scold in his throat. "how many times have I told you this?" he deadpans.

but from the obvious fact that you're holding it. it's not like jamil can do anything about it.

"you don't buy flowers for yourself," he says firmly. I'm supposed to be the one getting them for you. he would like to add.

"they're a waste of madol?" you tilt your head.

he answers immediately. "no, just—" jamil's eye twitches like he's trying his hardest to keep something. "don't,"

perhaps he's being a little too blunt but it makes him upset. is he really messing up in gift giving to the extent where you have to buy something for.. yourself? and jamil is pretty sure gifts are called as such for a reason.

and that they're from, or gifted to another person.

you chuckle in your fist, but he continues to ramble; "also it's hard to care for flowers when you don't know much, i don't want you to—"

"jamil hon, my baby, the apple of my eye, the love of my life, they're for you,"

you say simply, and watch in amusement when his moments stutter before they stop to a complete freeze.

a furious wave of heat crawls up on his back but he's praying frantically. now is not the time. he seethes.

... he just tripped over his words.

jamil reluctantly accepts the flowers after you've finished laughing your ass off, and the only thing in his mind is the love.

okay maybe he should pick up a book about caring for flowers. do they even survive in the harsh conditions of scarabia?

whatever he'll make it work.

you should've expected this.

despite your arm honestly starting to tremble under the stress of holding it out for about 2 minutes straight now, you still attempt a smile—although strained. wouldn't want sebek to find it an unfriendly gesture.

even though he probably already thinks that anyways.

you don't want to color sebek in a way that shows that his only personality is being suspicious to everyone, and of course. the dearest young master he adores. (seriously though it's a little concerning, and you're kinda jealous.)

sebek stares at the bouquet in your hand with scrutinizing eyes, as if to say non-verbally: 'what is this'.

you sigh when he just stares at it like it's a bomb. "it's flowers." you deadpan.

sebek pursues his lips, looks away before looking back. "I can see that!" he says like he wasn't wearing a face that made you think you had to explain. but he just crosses his arms and falls silent with a huff. "for the young master, yes?'

he pauses. "I can atleast acknowledge your gesture, human!"

was that supposed to be good? you weren't given the chance to explain because he continues again; "though I will have to make sure that these aren't anything the young master is allergic to." he nods to himself, as though proud for being so thoughtful.

your eye twitches. you're a little surprised that he didn't even imply that it could be possibly a bomb inside to try and assassinate them.. but you notice a slight tense-ness to his demeanor.

you know cause he's huffed about 5 times in the past 1 minute, he's looked away and he's very clearly sneaking peaks at your hand.

—then he huffs to himself! then it repeats.

"I will take them to the young master at once!" he announces with his loud volume, stepping forward to grab it from you but you ultimately beat him. you're just praying he doesn't find you 10x more suspicious the moment you had wrenched it back to yourself with surprising strength you didn't know you had.

even he looked surprised!

"no, sebek.." you heave. "they're not for malleus, they're for you."

he didn't have the heart to correct the way you addressed the young master before he dutifully exploded.

he's shaking away from you with a wobbling, agape mouth. he could only open and close them dumbly, not beir capable to let a word out.

you suppose he was too speechless because he didn't even say anything when you happily pushed the bouquet to his chest like nothing happened.

for someone who's most diligent in studying, you'd think riddle would be able to catch on easily on the gist of your actions.

but he just blinks when you hold out your hand. pretty gray eyes trained on the bouquet of red roses in your grasp, then onto your face with inquisitive question apparent with the raise of his brow.

"we have plenty of roses in our gardens." he says, as though like giving him... these is the most bizarre phenomenon in his life.

it seems like he feels the need to add. "we grow them."

you smile, the sweet thing awfully tight on your face. "they're for you," you explain. a little perturbed that you need to in the first place, but it's riddle so you sorta understand?

riddle squints. "why?"

you blank. "like... like a gift, for you? you know. cause I want to."

then as if the slowness of the processing going on in his brain gradually speeds up. it's obvious he's probably realized the implications of your little gift from the jolt, then widened eyes who stare in disbelief.

riddle gulps. "for, me?" he asks stupidly.

your raised brows say yes.

it's almost hilarious when he accepts them gratefully and stares at them like you just sprouted a literal white rose from the ground, wrapped it in some fancy plastic, and then handed it to him with a smile.

silence ensues again. riddle notices, screeches in his head to do something about it except he can't, cause his mind seems to be broken right now and he can't exert any words but a stammer.

and he'd really like to relearn how to speak because you're fidgeting on the spot, clearly nervous by his silence.

"sorry," you chuckle. "um.. it's just red roses, not white, or blue, or pink—"

"no!" he blurts out far too quickly. hands stretched out in the air a little as though reaching out to stop you but then stiffly staying by his side. riddle clears his throat. "I mean... this is... very important to me."

you look like you don't really believe him cause he was going off about roses in his dorm before.

he flushes, away from your gaze. "because its from you."

you can barely see azul.

or gauge out his reaction if it's supposed to be good or bad, because you can barely even see his eyes from all the sudden sheen of white over it. did all the smoke in the room just gravitate over his glasses conveniently or something?

you can spot the joints in his fingers twitching but oddly enough he remains stiff in front of you. uncharacteristically silent, which wouldn't really lead to good things.

"hello?" with your free hand, devoid of any flowers with the power of freezing a person. you wave it in front of his face which seems to have done a pretty good job with snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

the glasses slip down the bridge of his nose but he fixes them at record speed. admittedly with clammy fingers.

azul coughs. "thank you very much." he clutches them tighter, pursuing his lips.

"I know octavinelle is not the best place for warmer places," he starts and a flash of confusion on your face is something he misses. "but I will manage it and find an accommodation for these, around 34 or 35 degrees."

your brows furrow. what.

"hmm yes... a nice vase, I'll use the most pure water there is." he rants. "then I'll fill it up with two thirds of its container and make sure it lives healthy."

that's... concerning.

"I'll have jade clean it regularly." he says and you're honestly more scared for the flowers. "I cannot trust floyd either so I'll trim it by two centimeters at the right angle occasionally when it dries."

he says all that, with a pink face.

you awkwardly stand there taking in azuls apparent plans on how to ensure the lifespan of your 'thoughtful' gift will be extended as far as he can help in to commerce your honor.

[queenpiranhadon]

𖤓⎸⎸ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⎸⎸𖤓

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. 

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you. 

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed. 

He could take you down in seconds. 

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor. 

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that. 

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye. 

And yet you didn’t back down.  

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.  

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.  

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.  

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control. 

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.  

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.  

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.  

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you. 

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. 

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds. 

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin. “I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words. 

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.” 

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.  

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.  

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.  

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up. 

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain. 

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.  

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.  

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step. 

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.  

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace. 

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy. 

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.  

*** 

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.  

[deceitfuldevout]

Until Death (Part 1)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +1,524

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Non consensual photographing, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Forced breeding, Unwanted orgasm.

Author's Note(s): I wrote this cause I really wanna get married and find someone to love me but I don’t think it’s possible so here’s a fic instead 🥲

You never would've imagined being married to the Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron. But here you were, almost a year in. From the beginning you felt like an outsider. Even in the new home that Ward had gifted you. It was decision made by both of your fathers. Ward wanted someone from a family he knew very well. Your fathers were childhood friends and trusted each other enough to make the right decision. Whether their children were willing to or not. An arranged marriage between a Kook and a Pogue. One of the first of its kind.

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. To him, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always try to torment you. Other than that, most of time would be spent clinging to Sarah for protection.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave you be.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband. 

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.  

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.  

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.  

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous.  

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.  

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now that his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a park of determination in the young Cameron man, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward picks up his phone and dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

The best decision Rafe made was making you Mrs. Cameron.

[pinkaditty]

Can i pls request some facesitting headcanons for Satan, Mammon, Sitri and leviathan with a fem s!o? Thank you ❤️

hihi this was my first non-anon ask and yes ofc u can!! <3333

summary: facesitting and pussy eating. how will the men of WHB handle it?

a/n: woohoo i've been excited to do this ask tbh!! like seriously i've really been looking forward to it!!!! the only one i don't know much abt is Mammon buuuuut i do know his personality and idiosyncrasy so im hoping that's enough to characterize him properly!

cw: fem!reader (sorry, the one time i don't do gn... I PROMISE GN NEXT TIME!!), reader has a vagina, facesitting, pussy eating, suffocating (leviathan), cardiophilia (Sitri), pygophilia (Mammon), spanking (Satan), male whimpering, masturbation, and lots of tongue usage. NOT PROOFREAD!

MINORS DNI AS USUAL!!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY! THANK YOU!

Satan:

well. he does like spanking!

he won't say no to you sitting on his face ofc that's whatever, as long as he gets to spank your ass while he does it.

he especially doesn't care which way you're facing, because either way, there's an ass close enough for spanking. good enough for him.

will definitely just roughly massage and spank your asscheeks while he makes quick work of you with his tongue.

don't really know why but i think he's totally masterful at it.

knows exactly where your sweet spots are in seconds and abuses tf out of them.

pays especially close attention to the clit, and he's the most gentle with his tongue there. he doesn't mind spanking you, but he doesn't want to hurt you, especially not your sensitive areas. he won't mind if his nails leave a few marks, though.

he won't really stop until he's satisfied. you can't pull yourself off of him because you're not beating him in the strength department.

sorta thrusts his hips up into the air as he eats you out. gets painfully hard really quickly.

His nails, sharp as claws, dig into the skin of your ass, leaving deep bruises and small cuts. You groan painfully, curling your hands into fists and twitching at the sensation. You reach out and pull on his hair. He only grunts, continuing to draw soft circles around your clit with his tongue, smacking your ass once with his right hand before cupping your cheeks and pulling you closer to him. The sensation of his tongue swirling around your clit is almost enough to distract you from his nails still clawing into your backside. His tongue is gentle and slow, tracing soft circles around the sensitive nub. His pace is consistent; not so slow you'd lose your mind, but not so fast that you'd be overstimulated. He takes his time, even pausing gentle stimulation of your clit to lap at your hole, already dripping juices from how delicious it all felt.

This back and forth continues, at the same constant pace. Every time you reach orgasm, he smacks your ass again and continues on his pace, gently licking soft circles around your hardened clit.

At this pace, you'll hardly be able to take whatever devil energy he can give you.

Mammon:

well. he's similar to satan in that he likes ass (similar to me too lol).

will probably be doing almost exactly like what Satan's doing, just with less spanking and more groping and general ass appreciation.

will definitely prefer you facing away from him so that he can really be immersed in ass.

he's really slow with it, though. like where satan will put you through multiple in minutes, mammon will give you one every agonizingly long stretch of time filled with not enough pleasure to get you off, but enough to keep you squirming and impatient.

he will find your sensitive spots, but rather than abuse them, he switches between them. he'll take his time getting you off. he's very slow with it, so much so that it almost feels like he's edging you (he sort of is but he's greedy he likes to savor it and take his time. he knows you're already his anyway. why not take his time?)

will lick stripes rather than circles. he will lick your clit directly instead of teasing swipes from a circular motion.

will also dive his tongue between your folds very often, lapping at your juices like a dog does water.

is constantly squeezing, groping, and rubbing his hands all over your ass, simply enamored by it regardless of size.

definitely without a doubt gets hard but probably won't acknowledge it. he's greedy for you, not his pleasure (though he absolutely will be later).

His tongue switches back to your clit, licking slow stripes, pushing the flesh up and down with his tongue. Idly, you wonder how he can keep at this for so long, but such a thought does not last- not when the repeated, slow motions scatter your thoughts with how ridiculously good it feels. You tense up, eagerly stifling your twitching and staying in place, feeling the pleasure build up at last. He keeps going, licking soft stripes up and down your clit, moving his tongue so masterfully rhythmically that barely a sound comes from his technique. You clench and unclench your hands, your eyes spin in your skull, your heartbeat quickens, and your breathing deepens. Surely this was it, surely--!

You feel the telltale motion of his tongue giving one last rough, prolonged stripe to your clit, before he switches back to your waiting hole, diving his tongue inside hungrily and dragging it along your insides, collecting all the juices his greed so desires. You curse, having been so close, and he teasingly squeezes your ass in return. You can feel him smirking into your folds.

Sitri:

oh boy. ohohooooo boy.

he could care less which way you're facing. what matters is, regardless of the position you take up, your thighs are pressed directly against his ears. he can hear your heartbeat from afar but it's never enough.

will wrap his arms around your thighs to ensure that you stay put and to really press your thighs into his ears. he just cannot get enough of your heartbeat. thump, thump, thump...

is less careful with his fangs than the other demons. absolutely will not hurt nor bite you but when he's tonguing your folds the smooth edges of his teeth may slide against you. not painful.

is not very calculated with his technique but doesn't really need to be with your heartbeat as a dead giveaway. he just laps and laps tirelessly like a parched dog but somehow it hits the good spots.

honestly it's the way he does it that turns you on more than how it feels. how desperate each stroke feels is what really does it.

strokes with his tongue are wide, all-encompassing, and sloppy. he's drooling so much that it only makes you wetter.

buries his face as close as he can so he'll often pull back for air before burying himself again.

eats you out like he's never eaten anything before.

gets hard very quickly and will gently remove his hand from your thigh to jack himself off. does it quietly so you won't notice because he thinks it's embarrassing. eventually his muffled moans into your folds give him away and you just start riding his face. not that he minds.

He just keeps lapping. Like a dog at a water bowl after a long, dry walk. He just doesn't seem to stop. It feels good - almost too good. You writhe and twist, curling your toes from how delicious it feels, but you can't move much; his strong arms still holding you down in place and keeping your thighs hard pressed to either side of his face. He just has to listen to your heartbeat in his ears. He just can't get enough of it, of you. He keeps lapping, his tongue sliding between your folds, gentle but quick, sliding across your hole and just barely tickling your clit before he retracts and licks again. The buildup feels slow, but you've finished before you know it, the gentle tickles of your clit driving you to orgasm. Your whole body shakes and your eyes roll back, and he lets you ride it out, keeping up his gentle strokes against your clit. You shiver as sparks pop behind your eyes, slowly coming down from your high. He squeezes your thighs once more, and breaks away, taking a few deep breaths. The cool air hits your folds and you flinch, twitching just slightly at the sensation. As quickly as he pulled away, he dives back in, dragging his tongue across the length of your labia, gently slipping between to tease what's there. You groan, feeling sensitive, the continued motion making you feel overstimulated. You curl your toes, shifting yourself just slightly, trying your best to bear the overwhelming feeling. It just feels too good, the gentle drag of his tongue, the soft tease of your hole and clit, and the finality of it all before he immediately starts again. You can't take it.

You feel the pressure of his hand of your thigh gently lift. You can't be bothered to pay much attention to that until you hear the soft clink of a belt being undone, and you know what he's doing. You can barely smile in satisfaction due to overstimulation, but you manage, and reach down for his blue silky hair, pulling tightly on it. He moans, and stops lapping, simply holding his mouth open, preparing for you to ride him. He's practically shaking, trembling in silence except for the repeated sound of his hand sliding up and down his length.

Leviathan:

the less he can breathe, the better.

literally. no if's and's or but's. the less he can breathe the better. surprisingly he's not much into choking you... rather he wants you to choke him.

and he doesn't care how you do it.

so suffocating under you while you take what you need from him, yeah! he is more than on board for that.

prefers you facing forward so you can use his nose to rub your clit on while your folds are spread over his lips, revealing your hole, perfect for him to stick his tongue into while you move back and forth over him.

this way, he can't breathe! and yeah, he gets off to that really fast.

will attempt to hold your hips as you ride him, but may be unable to focus much so he might claw his hands into the sheets.

while he's totally into this, you will have to lift off of him occasionally. but not for very long.

you can watch as his eyes roll back from the relief of finally being able to breathe, his face red as a cherry, his tongue lolled out and covered in your juices.

and then you sit right back down and he can't breathe anymore. but he's not complaining. at all.

he's thrusting his hips upwards, as though he's desperate to feel some friction. he's so into being suffocated, he can't even focus on his own arousal.

won't really touch himself. after your first orgasm or so he's already cum untouched.

for every one orgasm of yours, he's probably had one to three.

You're riding his face like you would a horse, using the chain between his horns as reins, pulling his face deeper into you. He obliges, following your pull ever so obediently, burying himself deeper into your folds. You're moving your hips along his face as fast as you can, his nose providing the perfect stimulation for your clit. You can barely see his eyes peeking over your thighs, but they're there, rolled back in ecstasy. His face is bright red, and he can't breathe. He's clinging to the sheets, gripping them tightly for some semblance of grounding, but he's too far gone.

You're much the same, dizzy and blissful from how good it feels. His nose is gently pressed into you, your clitoris rubbing back and forth over it. His nose supplies just the right amount of pressure, enough to send you over the edge. His open mouth and lolling tongue are perfect for catching your juices and teasing your hole, pressed right against it, and you feel every tremble and every moan. Sometimes he moves his tongue just slightly, circling your hole as you move. It makes you grip the chain harder, putting pressure on his horns, to which he moans rather loudly.

When you finally feel the orgasm coming, the building blissful pressure turning into a peak, your folds twitching with anticipation; you suddenly push the chain away from you, pressing his head into the sheets. Your hips follow him, pressing his face deeper into you and his head deeper into the pillows. His already jerking hips suddenly thrust into to the air, and you hear and feel a strangled moan as he reaches his peak, his whole body quivering as he soils his pants. You press deeper into him as you orgasm yourself, you clit quivering against his nose, your juices spilling into his mouth. For a moment, you stay like that, holding his chains so tightly they leave indents in your skin. Soon you release, letting go of his chains and lifting off of him a little, giving him a chance to breathe. He's twitching, all red in the face, and panting heavily, his mouth wide open, tongue lolling out. You only give him a minute before you sit right back on his face again. He moans, satisfied, and ready for another round.

a/n: okay so perhaps i got a little carried away with my blatant displays of favoritism. perhaps. but it's not my fault!!!!!!!!! i like them submissive. :(

okok but anyway i hope you all enjoyed woohoo!! one more ask after this, but ill do pervert pt 3 before I answer that ask. anyways, please please please let me know if you all enjoyed it!! leave a comment, do a quick reblog, and submit an ask if you want something written just for you! im happy to write for you! thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you!

[youryanderedaddy]

Tw: female reader, nsfw, m!sub to m!dom, con to dub-con/non-con, slight degradation, hinted baby trapping My Ko - fi <3

When you and Gerald started hooking up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, it was fun to play around with your high - school enemy turned academic rival now that both of you were in the same old prestigious college. And you would be lying if you said that it didn't stroke your ego to have the man who used to underestimate you all your childhood pussy drunk and wrapped around your little finger. But nowadays he was just acting off - even for his nerdy oddball self.

Before he used to feel so nervous around you, cheeks growing hot at your light - hearted touch. Your rival used to let you lead - with your body, with your eyes keeping him down, groaning underneath you as you rode him to overstimulation. He always broke beautifully, crying out your name as your heat milked him dry over and over again. He was quite cute like that, moaning obscenely, happy to let you use him as a stress toy.

But slowly things started to change. As university work kept piling up and the once friendly environment turned hostile and competitive, your fuck buddy caved to the pressure. His clear green eyes muddied, turning gray - and his fist would wrap around your hair unprompted, pulling instead of caressing. His kisses got desperate, aggressive - he wasn't trying to please you, but devour you completely. Even his tongue, once so sweet and wanton, turned sharp and degrading.

"Like that, little slut?" Gerald would hiss in your ear while taking you from behind - only stopping to slap your ass when you didn't nod quickly enough. "Just like I thought." He would smirk, and it reminded you of that stupid self satisfied grin he used to do in the past when he managed to beat you at something. "I should have known you were only good for one thing." He'd keep going, egging himself on as he thrust into you roughly.

You, for one, didn't care. In a way you even liked the change in him - it was new and exciting to let him take control and ruin you for once. You just needed to take off some steam - you could play both the master and the slave, the dominant and the submissive; as long as he made you cum your brains out, you were content enough.

The thing was, this change was too sudden to be organic or born out of desire. The shift in his behavior had been too frantic, too emotional - and the trigger seemed to be you once again. You two had just started a new course together - perhaps the most important one in your career so far. You were tasked with a big project and you were making a lot of progress - so much so that your professor had tried to find you a start-up sponsor, something most students weren't granted unless they were close to graduating. Gerald didn't like that - although he didn't make it known at first.

The next time you met him, he insisted you go to his place. It was your first time stepping foot inside his den - which was, frankly, equally exciting and nerve - wrecking.

He greeted at you at the door - said his roommate won't be coming back today, so you have the whole flat to yourselves. Your rival had even cooked dinner for you along with your favourite dessert. The whole romantic atmosphere made you feel uncomfortable - you had never seen Gerald as anything more than some quick weekend fun, but your well mannered nature prevailed and you didn't say anything.

Eventually he got you laying on his small creeking bed, naked and tipsy off cheap wine. You were giggling when your lips met - his tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, although he didn't really smoke. There was something weird in the air tonight, but you were too drunk and horny to figure out what exactly.

Gerald started fucking into you with slow precision, making sure to hit your sweet spot - licking the tears off your cheeks as you cried out in pleasure.

"You feel like Heaven." He whispered, burying his head in your neck, his nose tickling your sensitive skin. "And you smell so good. So perfect for me." The man kept blabbering. His words began to sober you up - there were nothing like his initial boyish whimpers or the degrading praise he'd shower you in nowadays. This felt... genuine. Rehearsed. Somehow it made your skin crawl.

"You're too fucking pretty for your own good." He murmured to himself, bottoming out just to push himself all the way inside you - making you whine pathetically. You couldn't even think properly when he was making you feel so much. "Is that how you got that sponsorship, baby?" The man cooed at you, cupping your cheek - voice dropping dangerously. "Did you spread your legs for Mr. Smith like a nasty little whore? Hm? Is your dignity so cheap you're willing to do anything to climb the ladder now?"

He was rubbing his tip along your slit, teasing you in just the right way - but even the electric joints of pleasure weren't enough to numb the pain his words had caused you.

"What do you mean? I've never done anything like that!" You stated defensively, pushing at his chest - but he didn't bulge. "We've known each other since forever. You should know better to than to throw such baseless accusation. I'm capable - I'd never sink so low t–

He didn't wait for you to finish, driving into you with mad ferocity, eyes almost black now.

"I know. I know!" Your rival screamed as if possessed by a madman - then gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you to your core. "But I don't need you to be capable. I don't need you to be smart or strong or ambitious." His nails were digging into your flesh, but you didn't dare complain. "I just need you to be mine."

You opened your mouth, ready to confront him - to ask him what the fuck was going on, whether this was even real, or just a cruel joke on his part. But you couldn't because in the next moment you felt his warm seed filling you up so deep it dripped down your thighs. You closed your eyes, terrified. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be coming inside you when he knew fully well that you weren't on the pill. Fuck.

"All mine."

[charmedreincarnation]

Hi Maya I was one of your first anons back in March and I manifested my dream life. i just wanted to share some things that helped me, and hope we can all pass some knowledge so we all get our desires life. I did, you did, and everyone reading this can and will so let’s all try to help out by sharing a little of our journey. I’ll never create a blog because tumblr is a mess, so I’ll just share them here bc I trust you as a creator and I hope you agree with what I’m saying. Even if you don’t these are my assumptions and my truth

il get into my methods in one second but users of tumblr there are only 4 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE LAW (Inspired heavily by you bc I used your blog religiously) I will say you’re kind of too nice and I wish I had someone to yell at me like this, and tell me to stop being a victim!!! So if it sounds aggressive it’s because it is in the best loving way possible.OKAY SO.

★you need to understand that you want to fulfill yourself in imagination because you don’t care about the desires only how you feel about it. Bare with me it sounds stupid I know. But I don’t care about men or how they feel about me. I just want to feel worshiped and love, and I could fulfill that in my imagination. I don’t care about money??? It’s fucking paper !!! I just want to feel secure and financially free and want the feeling of buying my favorite clothes without looking at the tag. I GOT THE SAME FEELING FROM PINTREST EVEN WHEN I WAS POOR GODDAMNIT. I didn’t care about getting all As in school when I’ve always believed school is not a representation of intelligence. I wanted to feel recognized adored and respected which I had to feel for myself in my mind before it projected. I don’t care about looking skinny, I just wanted to feel snatched, I wanted to be envied, and feel pretty. And in my mind everyone wanted to be me even when I was ugly and fat. BUT I DIDNT FEEL FAT. Even with no change in the 3D I had my desires. This applies to all your desires, and you really need to understand that.

★you can affirm,visualize, understand states, understand non dualism, use the Bible or Torah m, wall twerk and say “I AM THAT BITXH,” use sats YADADAA . No one cares it doesn’t matter. you don’t have to feel anything or, even believe in wth you’re doing. As long as you think that having it in imagination means it’s yours that’s all that matter. I’ve read so many teachers, Neville, Abraham, Abdullah, Edward art, paid coaches, and they all do different things but say the same thing. FAITH IS KEY. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone you otherwise or tell you what you have to do. All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.

★YOU ARE GOD. You know what a god is, you know how a god works, you know god can do anything with a snap of a finger, kill anyone with a thought, look anyway it wants, have anything everything and create whatever. You are an omnipotent loving creator so create and give yourself everything.

★you can’t over consume, you can think from lack of whatever, and doubt can’t hinder you unless you think it does. Having a desire does not mean you’re lacking or else having the wanting for it would mean that too no? When creators say that I want to slam my head against the wall. Even now I have all my desires and I still think about them constantly. Thinking of new clothes to buy with MY WEALTH, I think of new food to eat that won’t even affect my SNATCHED BODY, i find new places to try and explore bc MY SOCIAL CIRCLE IS HUGE AND IM SO LOVED, I think of new makeup up to try to enhance my GORGEOUS PRINCESS FACE. I think of it in the same way from when I didn’t have my desired (I always had them in imagination but you know what I mean.) so there is no thinking from lack, or else you’re always lacking it lmfao the fuck. Anyways I doubted my abilities up until I manifested my dream life. I was okay with it in imagination and whether it reflected or not it was my escape I was content with. DID YOU SEE THAT. I had doubts up until the very end, and it doesn’t mean shit unless you think it does. Just affirm having doubts and obsessions only speed up your results. That’s really all it is.

Now to my story if anyone cares. I won’t make a blog for reason number 2 and 3 listed above. That’s all you need but if you want more info for curiosity go for it. I know I was curious and that didn’t stop me from getting my dream life. Anyways I have the same story as about everyone else here. My life sucked, I found the law, and it worked! HOORAY!!! But how did I do it???? Easy peasy, in a couple of steps.

☞ I tattooed my four rules above in my mind. When fear and doubt emerged I sunk that shit like the titanic and went with my laws that I created. It’s literally called the law of assumption like come on, stop fighting with yourself when you assume and create reality.

☞I ignored anything that I didn’t agree with. Sometimes I’d get so mad and be like WHAT NO WHY WOULD THAT BLOGGER OR COACH OR ANON or whoever say that?? But am I dumb ??? each of us have our own reality our own bubbles. The fact that it works for them and not for me started to only motivate me more. It doesn’t work bc I assume sooo… sooo why not just assume the opposite and focus on my rules like they did. The law is always in effect and working. Either it’s in your favor or it’s not. It’s up to you

☞I used affirmations bc repetition is the only thing that works for my logical brain. Anything can change with repetition. It’s basic science. So in the morning and night time I would affirm. ONCE. Repetition meant for me doing it everyday and not wanting. The rest of my day was lived in my imaginations. And the affirmation was to remind me in my vulnerable state that I already have my desires. That’s why my affirmation was “I have my desires no matter what, and everything I do brings them to me faster than the speed of light” it was kind of funny and made me chuckle but I accepted it as facts. Look guys…

☞I didn’t repress myself. If I cried or yelled or told myself “FUCK YOU” it wasn’t me tf. It was the devil or something. Be like those Christian fuckers who when their child comes out as gay…it’s the devil within them or whatever. I would talk to myself, yell when doubt emerged and when my thoughts weren’t the ones I wanted. It wasn’t fucking me so get the fuck out I have my desires so who tf are you ??? It will feel weird but you’ll get used to it trust me. If you’re uncomfortable it’s working. Getting rid of bad habits and your comfort in dwelling in bad thoughts is uncomfortable but it’s worth it.

I manifested my dream life back in March. I LITERALLY WOKE WITH MY DREAM LIFE. A complete 180. I won’t talk about my past life bc I completely revised it and I’m the only one who remembers so for the most part it feels like a long nightmare that has past. I’ll just talk about what I changed instead because that’s the stuff we all want to hear. Anyways I’ll just post some of my list here.

♥ my life feels like the song rich kids by freak ocean

♥I’m a pretty spoiled princess who gets everything I want but I’m still kind

♥I revised my entire family from looks to personality to zodiac to religion and etc. i rewrote my story which included my family

♥I have natural admired intelligent

♥my family has a net worth of 500 million dollars, and my entire family stems from old money. (Think aristocrats not slave or colonization money)

♥I can play many instruments and speak many languages

♥ I am 5’2, 100 pounds, I have natural stunning vixen beauty, and the most desires body in the world. I’m the beauty standard and people either want to be me or date me. I am naturally skinny and have no worries about my weight, I have clear skin that only gets clearer with my skincare routine, and I have my desired personality where I’m kind but also don’t put up with any shit from anyone because I know I’m that bitch. I also have great style and embody a princess !

♥my life is a combination of my favorite watpadd stories, Gilmore girls, gossip girl, and mean girls.

♥ too many people pursue me I have too many options

♥I have a perfect school life, social life, family life, friend life, and people always wonder what I did to be “so lucky it’s unfair”

♥my family has multiple mansions in America, monoco,Australia, france, and China.

♥I’m a daddies and mommies money girl

♥I put myself first (I HAD SUFFERED TOO LONG I NEEDED A SOFT LIFE)

♥everyone’s purpose it to make my life easier and make me happier

♥I’m spoiled and privileged in every aspect of my life

♥I’m a master shifter, and manifester

♥I revised my age to 14. I was 18 and graduating but I wanted to redo high school how I had envisioned it all my life

♥I have a “cool mom” people are always jealous how lucky I am

♥I have my main estate in Hollywood hills with my family that’s in a gated, gorgeous, gate kept neighborhood. It is 30,000 sq feet with my dreams decor, dream cars, dream pets, dream house help, dream room with all my stuff saved on Pinterest including decor, furniture, clothes, shoes, makeup and skincare.

♥everything good in my life I have manifested and it’s too much to list. THERES NOT REASON FEAR OR WAIT. Do what you want and assume it still works and it will.

You honestly said it better than I could have. Literally every single one of these points are so valid :)!! I’m glad you think I inspired you love but all I did was allow you recognize your own godly abilities. I’m very proud of you, and have fun girl 🥹❤️

Also. “All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.” This one million times !!!!! Invest your faith into yourself more than anyone else and you’ll see how fast your reality conforms. I also adore your point about the state of lacking bc I never believed in that. If wanting your desires insinuates it’s not yours, we would have no thoughts since that’s where it all originates from. In fact Edward explains it pretty well.

When Edward looks at lack, he sees it as being something that is only brought about by the individual. He believes that your own actions, thoughts, and attitudes will bring about an artificial scarcity of resources. Edward says that this artificial lack of resources is not actually real—it exists only in our minds, as we focus on the things that we don’t have rather than the things that are available to us.

He believes that true lack only exists when someone has no access to resources—whether those resources be financial, physical, mental, or emotional. When someone has access to resources but they squander them or don’t use them to their advantage, it isn’t a lack of resources that is at fault—it is the individual’s personal choices and attitudes that create the feeling of lack. Same way we see attractive people feel ugly though they have women or men chasing them, modeling opportunities, and experience many examples of pretty privilege lol. You’re a hot girl.. you’re just not using it to your advantage, same way you have everything in imagination and access to anything yet… nothing bc of your own perceptions. That’s not lack. Simply inappropriate usage of recourse. A waste for better use of words.

[yrbladie]

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎WHEN THEY LOSE YOU ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ ayato, diluc, kaeya, neuvillette, zhongli

warnings ：angst, hurt no comfort, mentions of death and body (yours), sad bois, some have quite a comforting ending, others not so much, gn! reader, established relationship, implied marriage (ayato, diluc, zhongli), reader is called 'beautiful' (kaeya), spoiler free, non fluent writer

ㅤHe doesn't weep at first. Don't get him wrong, though, it's just that how could he ever fathom the thought of not having you by his side anymore?

ㅤYou were taken from his arms so suddenly that he wondered if you were ever real since the start, or only a fragment of his imagination, something that had always only belonged to his most beautiful dreams.

ㅤThe only way he knew you were indeed real was by the way people would talk behind his back when they thought he wasn't paying attention, talking about how sloppy he had become. Or the way he would still find small bits of you sprawled over his desk. Trinkets you gave him, and the letters you had sent to him the last time you went to visit your homeland for a week, knowing your lover would miss you too much.

ㅤIt suddenly dawns on him at that moment. How you were not there anymore, how he would never see you again, see your bright and beautiful smile or hear your giggle at his poor cooking skills.

ㅤAt that moment when he suddenly misses you, Ayato gets up and goes to visit you. In a place he never thought he would see you. Buried under the Sakura tree you planted with him last summer, the one where you both had wished for it to be as eternal as your love for each other.

ㅤHe sees your grave filled with flowers and gifts from the people you had known, and even finds the bouquet of flowers Thoma had sent under his name. And he kneels beside it, staring at your name written there.

ㅤHe still felt guilty, that he was not there for you when you needed him the most. That he was busy with work above anything else again. He could have protected you oh so easily, and he wasn't there.

ㅤ"I hope you can forgive this stupid lover of yours, my dear."

ㅤForgive him for everything. Forgive him for not loving you better, and for not being strong enough to be there when you died nor when you were buried.

ㅤAyato now knew, dreams are never meant to last.

ㅤWhen people saw you both together on the streets, with Diluc carefully holding your hand or touching the small of your back to guide you through the streets, like you were made of the finest porcelain, everyone thought they were going crazy.

ㅤThere was no way, the master Diluc Ragnvindr, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt, unmatched in every possible way, had gotten himself a lover.

ㅤWhen you arrived it was like a breath of fresh air for everyone who knew Diluc. You made him a different man, made people see a different side of him Diluc himself doubted existed.

ㅤAnd you were everything to him. Until the fateful day you were forcibly taken from him.

ㅤBut still, he couldn't hope to grieve, he had no time to let himself stop and rest, not even for a minute. In a minute so many things can happen, just like in a minute you were gone.

ㅤDiluc still had Mondstadt to protect, and he would focus solely on that for as long as there was still air in his lungs. Even if his torn heart still churned in pain everyday.

ㅤEven if in the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, he would still sit alone in his dimly lit room, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. The walls of his manor, once filled with laughter and love, now seemed to echo with the emptiness of his loss. The air was heavy with the scent of fading memories.

ㅤEverything in your shared room is a bittersweet reminder of the warmth that had once been, now slipping through the cracks of time.

ㅤOutside, the world moved on, without you. And Diluc couldn't understand it, for his world was you. Every moment without you felt like an eternity.

ㅤAnd in those short moments he wept. Letting the pain flow freely, as if by releasing it, he could somehow reach across the chasm that separated you both. And he still could somehow feel your presence in brief moments, a soft whisper in the breeze or a fleeting glimpse in a dream.

ㅤDiluc had experience in mourning, and he knew that one day, the sharpness of his pain might dull, but his love for you would remain eternally vibrant, a testament to the life you had shared.

ㅤIn his own way, he would carry on, honoring your memory with each step forward, holding you close in the chambers of his heart, as he navigated the path of grief, one tear and one memory at a time.

ㅤIn that way, Diluc could forever hold you close to his heart somehow. The idea that you would have liked that he kept protecting those you had come to love, gave him comfort as he got up for another day.

ㅤYou were his first, but also his last.

ㅤOh, to be loved by the Cavalry Captain, with his deceiving smiles and well thought words. People used to call him such a heartbreaker before you came along and showed to all that Kaeya Alberich could be so much more than that.

ㅤIt seemed like he always had a smile reserved only for you. Different from the grins and crooked smiles he gave for others. With you nothing was ever fake, you had managed to tear down the walls he built to keep himself safe each and every time, no matter how much he tried to keep you at an arm's length.

ㅤBefore Kaeya even noticed you had already made a home in his heart and had no plans of leaving.

ㅤBut of course, fate had always found its way to mock him. He could but only watch as your life slipped past his fingers like sand, no matter how much he held onto you and begged the skies not to take you. Not you too.

ㅤIn the end, Kaeya still had to carry back your lifeless body to Mondstadt, back to your home where you belonged.

ㅤBut did he still belong there now? He was once again reminded of his purpose, the destiny that hung heavily above his head, like a death sentence forever haunting and taunting him. A destiny he just couldn’t seem to escape.

ㅤCursed to loneliness, to destruction. He should have known he didn’t deserve all the happiness you had brought along with your love to his wretched life.

ㅤYou had slipped away, leaving behind a void that seemed insurmountable. In the beginning, Kaeya refused to acknowledge the cruel twist of fate. He clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare, a cruel illusion that would dissipate with the morning light.

ㅤDays turned into nights, and reality set in, stubborn and unyielding. The denial that had once shielded him from the harsh truth began to crumble like a fragile dam battered by the relentless waves of sorrow.

ㅤHe still remembered everything about you. While others would talk about how sweet you were to everyone, Kaeya would remember the laughter shared on lazy Sunday mornings, the whispered promises exchanged under a blanket of stars, and the simple joys of a life built together.

ㅤHe still had your portrait on his desk, a painful reminder of how beautiful you looked when you smiled up at him. And he still wondered how you were. Are you happy now, wherever you are? Are you safe?

ㅤOr do you miss him like he misses you?

ㅤKaeya only found solace on those lonely starry nights, where he laid by himself on the grassy field he always hated, saying the grass always got stuck at his hair as you laughed, calling him such a drama king.

ㅤAnd as the first rays of dawn began to set in, he smiled.

ㅤThe pain remained, a constant companion, but it transformed into a tribute—a testament to a love that transcended the boundaries of mortality. With a heavy heart, he got up, in a silent acknowledgment that life, though forever altered, would continue.

ㅤHe would carry your cherished memories with him into an uncertain tomorrow. With a newfound strength—a resilient ember burning in the ashes of loss, Kaeya had to carry on.

ㅤEven if his fate overtakes him once more one day, the whispers of your voice, urging him to embrace life would always remind him that there was something out there worth fighting for. And that one day, when his body and heart rests for one last time, he will meet you again.

ㅤThe skies of Fontaine have never been cloudier than since the day you died. The rain poured down, seeming endless. Like a mourning prayer for another loss the nation held.

ㅤYour funeral was quiet and quite lonely. You had not really been a person that went out each and everyday, or that easily befriended all that you met through your day. You were a common person, like any other in Fontaine, maybe just a little weird with your outlander ways.

ㅤBut Neuvillette still loved you anyway.

ㅤYour love for each other was nothing grand nor loud. It was almost timid, but shined brightly like an unwavering ember.

ㅤSo it didn't come as a surprise that no one knew about your relationship with each other. Neuvillette was, before anything, an important and key figure in Fontaine, his every move scrutinized under the city's gaze, yet whose true emotions remain hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

ㅤEven to the end, he couldn't even attend your funeral. Watching from the sidelines, like an outsider. He watched as your loved ones paid their respects, leaving their flowers and good wishes that you now may be safe, in the arms of the gods.

ㅤNeuvillette wanted to scoff at this. The gods were silent as their people suffered under their gaze. And most of all, there was no space for people like you on their golden mighty thrones.

ㅤWhen everyone parted and left only your lonely tombstone, did Neuvillette finally came to pay his own respects as the rain fell heavier, a reflection of how he felt inside. Like a storm that could never break free from the clutches of a well maintained facade of a composed judge.

ㅤYou made him so vulnerable as each time you touched his skin, his heart longed for more of you, with feelings he couldn't understand.

ㅤIf only he had noticed sooner, if only he had met you sooner.

ㅤIf only you were still here. To show him comfort once more.

ㅤBut as the calm and collected Iudex wept by the lonely grave, you were still gone.

ㅤAnd in the next day and even the next after that, every day became an act. An imperturbable, endless theatrical piece. Worthy of even being presented at the opera house.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still conducted each trial with unperturbed accuracy, the outside seemed to have forgotten about you. But not him, never.

ㅤHe still heard your voice, just outside his office, while you laughed with the Melusines. He still asked for two cups of tea to be prepared and people wondered who the other cup was for. And he still had the official documents where you accidentally doodled on and had apologized profusely for doing it, but Neuvillette had never held it against you.

ㅤAnd he still loved you. Each day when the rain started again, the pitter patter sound followed the judge as he disappeared through the corners of Fontaine to find you once again.

ㅤHis life was destined to be eternal, and so was his love for you, despite the fact you weren't by his side anymore.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still found small flowers and trinkets left on your grave, he knew he would not be the only one to forever remember about you.

ㅤThe God of Contracts was no stranger to loss and to mourning. He himself had buried more friends than he could count.

ㅤHe had an immortal soul and an unyielding memory. His friends were forever reminders on his everyday life, that he got to walk the places they never had a chance to see.

ㅤEvery time, he caught himself reminiscing about you, about your shared laughter under the bustling night time of Liyue, and the dreams over breakfast.

ㅤAnd how fate took you away from him.

ㅤThe town now seemed to be filled with a haunting silence, even if nothing much had changed. The vendors still called for him to eat and buy their products, he still watched the same plays and stories. But now every corner held a memory, a reminder.

ㅤDays turned to nights, and nights into days, but the pain persisted, insistently. Zhongli found solace in the shadows of the past, where memories of your happiness still lingered like a sweet melody.

ㅤHe never thought of himself as someone to be stuck in time. But your presence and your loss seemed to have made an ever deeper impact on his life than he initially thought.

ㅤAs the years went by, he would still wait for you. With the hope and the heartache that the skies would relent at his incessant prayers and return you to his arms, in another form, in another life, it didn't matter.

ㅤStill, he knew he was not alone. Hu Tao would pat him in the back gently in an almost nudging manner every day, encouraging him to go out again, to rest more. And slowly Zhongli felt like he could gather the shattered pieces of his heart again. Like his wounded soul still had a purpose.

ㅤEven if his body and mind eroded until there was nothing more left of him, he thought that all the memories of you would still be his most cherished treasures.

ㅤAnd so, in the quiet town where love once blossomed and sorrow cast its shadow, Zhongli would learn once more to carry the weight of loss with gentleness. The stars above forever witnesses of his eternal and enduring love for you.

ㅤIn the small shrine he built above your grave, where Zhongli could still feel your presence sometimes, through your pictures and the incense. His heart was finally at peace.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ《◇》

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WAYS TO DESTRESS

summary: after a long day, all coriolanus wants to do is blow some steam off. nothing will stop him from getting what he wants…not even your sleepy state

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, somnophilia, dub non-con, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy spanking, belly bulge (?), LISTEN I KNOW ITS UNLIKELY BUT LET ME BE UNHINGED, a bit rough nothing too crazy, get your holy water though, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please)

a/n: this came to me the moment i opened my eyes this morning. pure filth. i shouldn't be proud but i am. goes to show how much coriolanus is plaguing my thoughts day and night. my new little hyperfixation. a new villain to add to my collection <3

PT. 2

requests open ✨

All Coriolanus feels is anger. It's been pumping through his veins throughout most of the day, almost causing him to lose his composure at all the wrong places. He can never afford to fuck up. He already did it once, and second chances are nonexistent in the Capitol.

He owes a lot to Dr. Gaul. After all, she saw the value in Coriolanus. She saw right through him and his faux kindness and unearthed his true wickedness. He simply needed a nudge in the right direction.

While working for with her is an honor, it is hardly easy. Like all aspects of his life, he's had to adapt to how she runs her lab. Coriolanus is hardly a follower; he's a leader, but as long as he remains under the tutelage of Dr. Gaul, he will have to follow her orders. Which means he has to talk when spoken to and perform how she expects him to.

There are days when it all becomes too much. His pride rises to the surface, forcing him to stifle it as best as he can before he does something he regrets.

He has to think of the scrutinizing gaze of his peers waiting for him to fail. As much as they pretend to be his friend, they want him to make a mistake so they can rise to the occasion. He won't allow that.

His apartment is silent when he steps in. The lavish decor is obscured by the lack of illumination. It's to be expected, seeing it's well past midnight.

Leaving his coat by the door, Coriolanus walks towards the bedroom. He needs to destress now, or he'll carry all his anger and frustration on his shoulders for the rest of the week. He can't have that. He can't lose control and look bad in front of Dr. Gaul and the others.

In the master bedroom, he finds you lying on the soft mattress, tangled in the silky bedsheets. He watches your chest rise and fall with gentle breaths, your pouty lips slightly ajar. It's a shame he's going to disturb your sleep, but he needs to let off some steam. That's one of the numerous reasons he has his pretty little girlfriend.

Coriolanus unbuttons the red waistcoat and removes his shoes, leaving them in the armchair. As he approaches your side of the bed, he notices the bright orange bottle on the nightstand and your book thrown haphazardly on the floor.

It's rare for you to take sleep aid medication because you hate how they knock you out. You only take them when you've had a particularly rough day. It seems Coriolanus is not alone in this. Today has been bad for both you and him.

Still, his plan remains the same. Coriolanus leans over you, kissing your forehead gingerly before his lips continue to trail down to kiss your cheek and lips. You don't stir with the soft touches.

Coriolanus darkly chuckles. It's not often he gets to do this. He'll take it as a treat for his patience throughout the day. He'd say the universe is working in his favor if he believed in such silly things.

Having you so pliable and willing in his hands excites him to no end. Lying on the bed, he digs his head on your shoulder, leaving marks for you to find in the morning. It spurs him on to hear little gasps falling from your lips.

"Beautiful and all mine," he mutters into the silent room as he lowers down the thin straps of your night dress to reveal your chest.

Coriolanus takes his time with your body. Even while asleep, it responds to his touch. He sucks and squeezes on your breasts harshly, biting down on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He's not as gentle this time around compared to other times in the past. Then, you were simply asleep; now, you're completely doped out. He will miss your whines and the way you berate him.

Coriolanus continues down your body until he settles between your legs. "Fuck, darling," he audible groans when he lifts up your nighty to find a patch on your panties. Who would've thought you'd be as responsive to him while asleep.

He gives into his urges as he presses his nose against your center, smelling your arousal and licking up the wet fabric with his tongue. He only parts for a moment as he roughly slides the thin fabric off.

With you like this, there is no reason to tease. He doesn't have to kiss your thighs or hold himself back. Coriolanus can truly delve into what he wants without a spectacle.

It's why he buries his tongue into your wet cunt as soon as he has the chance. He holds your limp thighs on his shoulders as he presses himself against you, his blue eyes closing in ecstasy at the taste.

Soft noises- moans- come from above him as you slightly stir in your drug-induced sleep. While Coriolanus suck on your pearl of nerves, he wonders what you're dreaming about and if he's the protagonist as well.

His hips roll onto the mattress underneath, soothing the ache on his cock. He could go straight to fucking you but wants this to last. He needs to keep his mind busy, and eating you out is the answer.

Unconsciously, you grind your cunt on his tongue, chasing your release. Coriolanus smiles at this and rewards you with fucking you with his tongue. He's determined to make you cum all over it.

"Oh," he hears you whine when his nose rubs on your sensitive clit. He knows you're close. He feels it in the way your thighs are suddenly clenching around him.

There is no doubt in his mind you're still asleep. If you were awake, you'd be gripping his hair like a vice and calling his name for everyone to hear. You'd be begging him to fuck you silly.

Coriolanus laps up your juices like a starving man when you cum. Despite living in poverty, he never felt the need to act in such a way until he tasted you for the first time. He treats his sweet little girlfriend's cunt like a delicacy.

He stops himself before he almost makes you cum again as he slurps and sucks on your cunt. From up close, he can see the way your clit twitches under the pleasure. He leaves a bruise that will turn purple by morning on the inside of your thigh. It'll be a telltale sign he was there, devouring you while you soundly slept. A reminder you're his to use whenever he pleases.

Taking the rest of his clothes off, Coriolanus returns to your sleeping body. He pumps his cock in his fist as he looks at all the bruises and marks he left behind, and you'll have to hide because you can't have him seem like a pervert in front of his classmates.

Kneeling on the bed, he wraps your legs around his hips. He teases your wet cunt with the fat head of his cock, nudging over your clit repeatedly. He continues this until his cock is slick with your juices. As an extra, he spits down on your cunt, spreading his saliva over you. Not because you need lubrication but because he likes the sight of him on you in every which way.

No matter how many times Coriolanus has fucked you throughout your two years of being together, he's always had trouble pushing his cock in. He has to take a deep breath when he bottoms out as your cunt tries to choke him out. It's one of his favorite things about you, a constant reminder of the day he took your innocence.

It's only when he begins rocking his hips into you that you give any indication of waking up.

"What?" You whine as panic settles into you. Your brain isn't working properly. You're hazy and confused. Not knowing where you are, you get scared, and your heart races.

Coriolanus holds your hands as you begin struggling. As he leans down to talk to you, he pins you down, leaving you impaled with his cock. He immensely enjoys the struggle but can't have you screaming out in panic.

"It's just me, darling," he coo's in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your face. It works as your heart begins settling down.

"Coryo?" You sniff with tears in your eyes as your panic is quickly swept away. You try to speak, but the pills leave your tongue heavy and your brain foggy.

"Yes, your Coryo," he responds, kissing your cheek sweetly.

You've stopped struggling and spread your legs once again, just how he likes it. He even feels you clenching down purposefully around Coriolanus' cock. You're no saint; you enjoy making it hard for him even in your drugged-out state.

"Relax, darling. Go back to sleep," he hushes you, softly rocking into you.

Your eyes are already closed as he utters the words. You have no choice in the matter. Granted, now you sleep calmer, knowing it's Coryo touching you and making you feel food.

Coriolanus calls your name once, twice, and there is no response. You're back with the sandman, peacefully asleep. He takes it as a sign to keep fucking you.

Kneeling back on the bed, Coriolanus brings up your thighs to touch your chest. Your pretty cunt is on full display, showcasing the hues of pink and glistening fluids that shine under the lowlights of the bedroom.

Coriolanus licks the pads on his fingers before they smack down on your center. The only way it'll look even better is if it had that familiar twinge of red. He aims for the center, straight at your pearl, and smacks his hand down several times.

It manages to wake you again, eyes hooded with sleep, staring at him and complaints falling from your lips. Each time the 'smack' reverberates and you flinch, he soothes the sting, spreading the clear strings of arousal that drip from your hole.

Only when your cunt is flushed red and your clit is puffed out of its fleshy covering, does he pull you down on his cock. He fucks in and out of you mercilessly, addicted to the way your tight walls hug his cock even as he pulls out.

He glances towards your face and notes you're back to sleep. If it were up to him, you'd take the pills more often just so he could find you waiting for him asleep, naked on the bed. A real-life doll of his own.

The sound of skin slapping and his desperate moans and grunts fill the room, along with some of your smaller ones. He doesn't tend to be so vocal; he prefers listening to you beg for him, but with no one to hear him, he lets it all out.

Coriolanus places a hand on your lower tummy, pressing down to feel himself through your walls. It's an erotic thing to feel his cock slipping in and out, reaching the deepest parts of you.

He slows the pace of his thrusting, opting to go harder and deeper, just where he can make out the bump on your pelvis of his cock head.

The pressure Coryo is causing doesn't go unnoticed by you. Groggily, you open your eyes to find him with his head dipped down, whispering profanities to himself, a pretty sheen of sweat covering his fair skin.

"Mmm, Co-coryo," you moan, catching his attention.

With a glint in his eyes, he grabs your hand, placing it where you can feel it too, his fingers lacing through yours as he holds it down, "Feel this? No one will ever get you to feel like I do, darling. I'm going to ruin you for all others. Not like I'll let you leave anyways."

It's never crossed your mind to leave Coriolanus. Not for a second. The moment you set eyes on him, you knew he was it, and the ring on your finger is a promise of that. It's why you let him use you as he pleases.

You babble out a response as the darkness consumes you once more. By morning, you'll barely remember a thing as a side effect of the pills, but Coryo won't let you forget.

The mixture of your relaxed state, Coriolanus' hand pressing down on you, and the angle of his thrusts allow for something that hasn't happened before. Something he'll enjoy for the years to come.

As he viciously snaps his hips to chase his release, you wiggle under him. There are words on your heavy tongue neither can make out, a warning.

"Shh," Coriolanus quiets you down, focusing on the way you're milking his cock for all that his worth.

He's in for a surprise when a particularly angled thrust causes you to squirt around him. A stream of your juices covering his cock and abdomen. Although he falters for a moment, he quickly pulls out and rubs at your clit, causing a smaller stream to leak out of you.

His night has become a hundred times better. His eyes widen in wonder as his brain creates new ways to have you and make you do it again. "This is going to be fun."

When you wake up in the morning, you don't remember what happened, but you know something did. It's in the way your cunt aches and how thick cum runs down your leg when you get up.

Brief, blurry memories surface as you shower. Truly, you didn't care. If anything, you're upset you missed out on the fun and can't remember the pleasure. Ultimately, you trust Coriolanus and that he won't hurt you.

You feel well-rested as you dress and make breakfast for the two of you. There is an undeniable ache in your cunt, but that's always welcomed. Your problems from yesterday are only a quiet hum in a dark corner of your brain.

"My love," you softly call out to Coriolanus, touching his naked shoulder.

"Good morning," he says with his eyes closed, although there is an undeniable grin on his lips. All the stress he felt yesterday has dissipated, leaving a pleasant feeling in his chest.

"Good morning to you, too," you giggle as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss. There is a tangy taste attached to them that you recognize well. "Had a good night, did you?"

"I certainly did. Do you remember anything?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. The falling bedsheets reveal his toned chest and stomach. Gently, you grab the tray with food and place it on his lap.

"Barely," you scoff, "It's a shame." You technically haven't had sex with Coriolanus in two long weeks. His stunt from last night did nothing to satiate you or your mind that keeps picturing him in all sorts of compromising positions.

Coriolanus hums as he takes a bite of toast. You know him well enough to know he's amused that you don't remember and that he's hiding something.

"What is it?" You prod, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair away from his eyes.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. He's making you work for it. Coryo loves his games, after all.

"Coryo," you speak his name with a warning.

He takes his time, sipping on the glass placed on the tray. "I just…I didn't know you could squirt," he reveals cheekily, stabbing his fork on a piece of fruit.

"What? That's because I don't," you say, taken aback.

A crease forms between your eyebrows. You and Coryo are not ashamed to talk about sex. It took you by surprise at first because he always presents himself so elegantly and no-nonsense. Behind the scenes, though, when he's with you, he's open to discussing everything he wishes to try and his likes and dislikes.

You, in return, have been the same. Admitting that you've never been able to squirt and might never be able to. It's been a topic of conversation numerous times, seeing as it's something Coryo has always been curious about.

"Yes, you do. Last night, you squirted all over my cock and my fingers and my tongue," he boasts with a smirk as he remembers all the times he made you cum after that.

"I did?"

"You were such a good girl for me, darling," Coriolanus responds, putting the tray of food to the side and cupping your face, "All you had to do was relax."

"Hard to do when you're edging me for hours," you roll your eyes at him. Edging you is just one of the fun ways he tortures you.

"Don't be a spoilsport," he frowns, gripping your face harder before planting another kiss on your lips.

"It's not fair. I can't remember anything," you softly murmur. It's a real damn shame you won't remember the first time you squirt or the face Coryo made at the realization.

"Poor thing. I can show you how to do it again. I practiced last night a couple of times," he whispers in your ear, kissing down to your pulse point, "But I can't right now, or I'll be late."

"Huh?" You dumbly respond, enthralled by his words, imagining all the pleasure he'll give you.

"Thanks for breakfast," Coriolanus says, standing from the bed and heading into the bathroom butt-naked.

You watch after him lustfully and angrily, forced to continue your morning as if nothing happened.

In less than an hour, Coriolanus is ready to return to Dr. Gaul's laboratory. He has to check for any progress in his experiment before heading to the university for his classes.

He sits you on the bed before he leaves, though, to show you something 'important.' "I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing the crown of your head and turning on the TV.

The screen shows you lying on your back, whining helplessly as Coryo slips two fingers into your cunt rapidly. The rings on his fingers and the palm of his hand glisten with your sticky juices.

He did not lie about your new ability as you watch your hole leak clear liquid. The Coryo on the screen, who had been encouraging you with lewd words, eagerly attaches his mouth to catch it all. When he pulls back, his chin is dripping with your release.

Watching yourself in that fucked out state and Coryo behaving so obscenely gets your silk panties wet. Glancing at the clock, you note you have 30 minutes till you have to be at the door.

In no time, you're spread out on the bed with your hand under your university skirt, panties pushed to the side fucking two fingers into your cunt. Your eyes are focused entirely on the screen, rewatching the clip.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked it!

part two for coryo making her squirt while she's actually conscious?

[little-star-library]

Headcanons: Playing with Astarion’s Hair

Summary: Just some soft and fluffy headcanons about playing with Astarion’s hair. That man deserves to be coddled and pampered with all of the affection.

At first, Astarion didn’t care for anyone to touch his hair other than himself. After years and years of seducing so many people to lure back to his former master, there were plenty of people who had tangled their fingers through his hair and he developed a feeling of disdain and loathing at the sensation whenever someone got too close, like a hot brand that persisted until he was numb from the pain because none of it was ever real to him. It was all an act that he had to endure. But somehow that wasn’t the case when it came to you. You were different from everyone else. And it was frustrating beyond measure to accept the fact that he began to accept your touch more and more as the two of you grew closer.

It started with small, fleeting brushes of your fingers when you noticed the leaves and small twigs that got caught in his hair after a run in with some goblins. He hesitantly let you pluck out the debris and a twinge of warmth emanated from his undead heart at your gentle ministrations.

From then on, he would purposefully dishevel his snow colored waves and come to you with the excuse of the lack of his own reflection, saying that he only trusted you to fix it because Karlach would surely singe his hair by her own touch and Halsin’s hands were too large and would crumple his hair even more. You knew what he was doing, but secretly you didn’t mind at all.

“There we go, good as new.” You would say this every time with a smile and even though you would love to keep stroking his hair, as soft as it was, you would never cross that boundary unless he expressed his full consent to do so. You knew of his past and empathized with him not being comfortable with non-sexual intimacy because it was a foreign concept to him. He never got to personally experience something so simple and loving as that. And gods help him did he want you to keep going, but never really knew how to ask without embarrassing himself.

Luckily for him though, he didn’t have to wait too long before the opportunity arose. It was after the first time he convinced you to sleep with him and the two of you were laying in the grass under the starry night sky and he was nuzzling against the crook of your neck, trying to catch his breath even if it wasn’t really necessary. You were caressing his shoulders and your hands began to wander up to the curls at the nape of his neck and tentatively pet his hair , but you pulled away briefly so as not to upset him.

“No, don’t stop…please.” His voice came out as a soft whisper and he tightened his grip around your waist like you were going to disappear if he let you go and it made you melt from the inside to see him like this, and you didn’t need to be asked twice. You went back to entangle your fingers through his hair once more and lightly scratched at his scalp and he let out a hum as a silent ‘thank you’ and practically started purring when you kissed the crown of his head. The world around you began to blur until it was just you and him and there was nothing else that mattered other than this moment, and he silently pleaded for the sun to never rise so he could bask in your embrace just a little longer.

And after that night, he was hooked. Every night he would actively search you out and you would never turn him away. By now it was a common occurrence to spend the night in the privacy of your tent in comfortable silence by each other’s side while the rest of your traveling companions were asleep, usually with him reading a book and you playing with his hair as he rested his head in your lap.

One of his favorite pastimes however was when you would offer to wash his hair. You always thought he looked ruggedly handsome and carnal when he was in his element. You know it’s kind of off-putting to be attracted to something like that, but the sight of him when he had blood splattered across his cheeks and twisted into crimson ribbons throughout his hair was downright breathtaking. But you knew from your own experiences in battle that after a while, the blood cools and congeals into a sticky, wet mess on your skin and it was awfully discomforting after walking under the hot sun all day. Although Astarion would rather prefer an actual proper bath compared to scrubbing down in a freezing lake, he still insisted on using these special soaps and pomades which he may have acquired not so honorably stating that he wouldn’t be caught red-handed walking around smelling like ‘orthon roadkill’

He would give you detailed instructions on which products to use as you went and you dutifully complied just to see his expression turn to one of instant contentment as you scrubbed gently at his scalp to work the soap through the strands until the blood washed away and he was slowly oozing into a puddle of relaxation, almost slipping away into a short trance to rest his weary body. He would gladly return the favor in kind, making sure to wipe every patch of dirt and grime away until you were clean, his dexterous fingers feeling like an absolute godsend as they nimbly stroked thoroughly in your hair and he would smirk with pride when he had you moaning so sweetly just with his delicate touch.

He always enjoyed these small acts of intimacy that you shared with him and you helped show him a side of affection that was completely different from what he knew. There were no strings attached, no obligations he had to fulfill because there was no need for that. You were just expressing your care for him and you didn’t need to be repaid, always insisting on doting on him with your kindness and that made him nervous. He thought that after years of torment he would never actually catch a break or deserve any sort of reprieve after all of the awful things he went through, but you were his saving grace, the light at the end of the dark tunnel of his lonely existence. But as long as you were there, holding him in your arms and indulging him with your soothing touch, he felt like he could get used to this.

“You are worth so much more than you think, Astarion. I know it’s hard to see that, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to show you that.” Your hushed words struck him to his core and he desperately tried to contain the tears welling in his eyes from falling, pulling you closer to him as you both laid in your bedroll and left a chaste kiss on your lips in reverent gratitude. Although you two had only known each other for a short time now, you had already fallen for him and vice versa. There was no need to come to terms with your relationship until he was ready and if playing with his hair had been the beginning of your virtuous tenderness towards him, then he could not wait to see what else you had in store.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A River of Honey

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Navigating through life with your husband and son who both seemed to have developed an appetite for something only you can provide.

Warning: breastfeeding, mild lactation kink, innuendos

Word Count: 1142

With the two of you being forced into a marriage you did not want, it was difficult to coexist with each other, let alone initiate anything between you.  Your two-year marriage did end up with you having an 8-month old son as Gojō is only a man, ever so vulnerable to the natural charm of a woman.  But aside from sharing a child, you have nothing else that binds you to each other.

But lately, his crystalline blue eyes have been wandering to your ample bosom much too often.

Being in the Gojō estate house, you had to follow a few rules.

One is that you are never allowed to speak ill of your husband and your family.

You must not meet any man unaccompanied.

Entering the council hall is strictly forbidden.

Your hair must be in a specific bun, adorned with ornaments to symbolize status.

And lastly, you must follow the traditional dress code.

Most of the time, you wore kimonos, all having the colors of the Gojō banners.  It was their way of branding you as theirs.  And your husband did not like that.  But you, well it always reminded you of his eyes so you cannot bring yourself to complain.

During the course of your pregnancy, your husband protested about making you wear heavy fabric when it was too hot.  They did not relent.

So, your husband took it upon himself to rid your closet with the intricate kimonos and obi.  He threw them all in the cold of the night through your window, and shot a blast of cursed energy on the pile just for good measure.

From then on, your kimonos were lighter.  You did not have to wear multiple layers.  And even after you gave birth, the clan decided not to test their luck and just let you wear whatever is comfortable for you.  After all, you gifted the family a promising heir.  One that looked exactly like the master of the house, an exact replica of his father.

Gojō leaned on a tree in your garden one day, his legs stretched out in front of him.  He was watching you as you sat by the pond with your little boy on your lap, pointing at the koi fish that swam by.

“No.”  He hears you chuckle.  “We don’t eat them.”

As Gojō expected, a tiny frown forms on your son’s face the moment you said ‘no’, his lips wobbling and he turns to his father as if silently asking for rescue.

You sigh as you stand up.  “Wanna come to dada?”  Upon hearing this, your son hesitates and his tiny fists tighten on your sleeves.  But before he can protest, you drop his bum on Gojō’s lap.

“Hey there, bud.”  Gojō grins but the little boy doesn’t respond to him as his eyes remain trained on you as you sit next to your husband and pick up the book you brought with you earlier.

A poke to your son’s cheek finally made him look at his father, with a slightly irritated look in addition to his in-distressed expression.

“Mama’s not upset.”  Gojō says as he smoothens the hair of the child.  “She’s only teasing.”

Your son thinks for a moment and slumps on his father’s chest, his cheeks squished as he looks at your face.  Waiting for you to confirm it.  But you pretend not to hear as you turn the page on your book.  You’re not going to tolerate this attitude, you don’t need two spoiled Gojōs.

“Lighten up, Satoshi.  We’ll get you a non-koi fish to eat later.”  Gojō tried again, his grin widening every moment.

But Satoshi scowls at his father and shook his head. 

“Oh?  You don’t want to eat fish anymore?”

His son shook his head once more.

“What do you want to eat then?”  Gojō scratched his head.  “Want some taiyaki?”

Satoshi glares at his father.  “No!” 

Gojō’s eyebrows rise slowly.  “Come again?”

A red hue appears on Satoshi’s nose and judging by the large gulp of air he took, a wail is most certainly coming.

“MAMA!”  He bawls, his hands outstretched to you as large tears spill to his cheeks. 

Gojō grimaces, quickly handing you your son.  “Alright go to mama.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you drop your book to the side to cradle your baby.  He buries his face to your chest, soaking your kimono.  You rub his back in a soothing manner.

“What a crybaby.”  Gojō laughs, making his son glare at him behind his tears.

“Don’t listen to dada.”  You smile while smooching Satoshi’s chubby cheek.  “Stop crying now, I’ll ask them to make you something good to eat, okay?”

Satoshi looks at you with apprehension. 

“What?”  You smile sweetly.

He looks away from you and his tiny baby hands play with your kimono making you laugh.

“You have to talk, Satoshi.”  You say even though you know what he’s doing.

“Milk mama.”  He mumbles while he fiddles with his fingers.

After looking around your garden and not seeing anyone, you shift your kimono to the side and unbutton your nursing bra showing your lush breast and still puffy nipple.  Satoshi latches instantly.  His eyes become droopy almost immediately, breastfeeding is becoming a swift sleep inducer to him.

You turn to your unusually quiet husband and see just in time how he stared at your bosom with his pupils dilating as he swallowed audibly.  Warmth ran through your body and you looked away quickly, pretending that you saw none of it.

“That’s really convenient huh.”  He spoke, his voice a few timbres deeper.  “You just unbutton and your teat is out.”

“Mhm.”  You hum as you play with a lint on your lap.

Gojō wets his lips and he tries to look away but his eyes often wander to you every now and then.  You see his leg bouncing slightly in a steady motion.  And his hand raked his hair way too much that it started sticking out to multiple angles.

“I should put Satoshi back in his room.”  You say softly after you unlatched your son and tidied your clothes.

Gojō is quick to stand and offer his hand to you.  “I’ll come too.”

You thanked him and walked side by side with him.  He doesn’t tolerate you walking behind him.  

You smiled at him gratefully as he opened the door to Satoshi’s room and placed the pillows around your son’s crib.  Gojō pretends to look interested in a furby, as your neckline dips while putting your son down.  His heart softened when you smoothed his hair as you whispered, “I love you”.

He guided you out of the room and you are about to head back to your garden when his arm finds your waist and you are being led to your bedroom instead.

“My turn now, mama.”

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows. 

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye. 

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script." 

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me. 

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength. 

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore. 

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head. 

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer. 

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response. 

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt. 

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement. 

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased. 

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt. 

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality. 

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class. 

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous. 

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy. 

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked. 

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me. 

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously. 

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly. 

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me. 

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field. 

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return. 

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game. 

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights. 

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly. 

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions. 

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly. 

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise. 

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out." 

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. 

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore. 

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me. 

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts. 

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened. 

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate. 

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.

[lacrimosathedark]

Bat-Family Nicknames and Insults

So I went off the other day because fans keep having people who aren't Roy Harper call Jason Todd "Jaybird" and now I'm thinking about all the other nickname misconceptions so here's a probably non-comprehensive list of nicknames among the Bat Fam.

(Special thanks to @sohotthateveryonedied for a bunch of my data, she made a whole powerpoint with actual comic panels! Go check that out! Also got some info from @kiragecko who was writing some lists with more specific references.)

This list is an active document and will be edited in the event I find more nicknames or have more to say

Addendum note: I'm more than willing to add something I forgot, but you must have receipts. I'm not just going off of memory. Nothing will be added to this list without proof. If you don't have a source, please don't make a suggestion.

This is aside from assorted common insults and nicknames like jerk, ass, shorty, dude, idiot, etc.. Sidenote, every not-Steph Robin has been called “Little Bird”, “Birdboy” and/or “Wonder Boy” at some point. It’s kinda part of the job lol Secondary side-note, the only ones who REALLY use nicknames for people are Barbara and Jason. And Tim specifically in reference to Damian. Everyone else pretty much uses their names 98% of the time. Final note (sorryyyyyy) generally unless they're funny to me, I'm not including things used only once unless I have gotten vibes that it's a trend. This is an attempt to compile recurring nicknames. So ones noted to be used once are either I can only confirm it happened once but could happen multiple times, or I think it's hilarious.

Alfred Pennyworth

Al/Alf Seems to be a common nickname among the boys.

Alfie Dick, Tim, and Jason have all called him this.

Alfredo Jason called him this at least once and I think that’s funny. Not sure it’s exclusive though.

Mom Dick seems to have referred to him as such once…I’m sorry but that’s so funny.

Alfred also has specific ways of referring to everyone: Bruce: Master Bruce, Mister Wayne, Lad, Bruce, My Son Barbara: Mistress Barbara, Miss Barbara, Miss Gordon, Miss Oracle Dick: Master Dick, Master Richard, Master Grayson, Dear Boy, Young Sir, Young Man, Richard, Dick Cassandra: Miss Cassandra, Young Cassandra, My Dear Jason: Master Jason, Young Sir, Lad, Jason Tim: Master Tim, Master Timothy, Young Master Tim, Lad, Young Sir, Young Man, Timothy, Tim Damian: Master Damian, Young Master Damian, Young Sir, Young Man, Son, Damian

Bruce Wayne

Spooky Oliver Queen calls him this, others might as well but I legitimately have no idea.

Batsy Everyone and their goddamn dog, but Joker uses this notably a lot.

Detective RA'S AL GHUL EXCLUSIVE. I think? But this is how Ra's generally refers to Bruce.

B-Man HARLEY QUINN EXCLUSIVE...I think. She calls him this a lot though.

While Dick and Jason will internally think of Bruce as their father, Dick rarely says so and extremely rarely calls him “Dad”. Jason would only say so mockingly or under pain of a second death. Tim rarely even thinks of Bruce as his father (he didn’t become Robin to be Bruce’s kid, and he doesn’t want to replace his own father—much the same way Dana didn’t replace Janet) and never refers to him as such outside of WE work (where he very much uses that to his advantage). Damian almost exclusively refers to Bruce as “Father” but has called him "Dad". Steph sometimes calls him “Boss”. Everyone usually calls him "Bruce".

He refers to ALL of the boys as “chum” and “lad” at some point. It’s just how he used to talk honestly. He DOES NOT call them “sweetie” or “honey” or anything like that. He DOES, however, speak to small children this way. There are multiple instances of him using "sweetheart" and similar terms when dealing with young children. This differentiation I think is for two reasons. One, Bruce is emotionally stunted and being open with anyone outside of actively comforting is difficult for him, and two, the youngest child he has ever had himself was 9 years old so he's never had a small child he'd be likely more inclined to be extra super soft with.

Barbara Gordon

Babs Most people call her this. Bruce doesn’t seem to though, oddly enough.

Babsy/Babsie Both Dick and Jim Gordon have called her this. Very cute.

Barb/Barbie Nearly exclusive to Jason Todd, actually. I think her dad calls her this once in a while, but specifically Jason calls her this.

Babes A few of her friends call her this, but mostly Luke Fox when they were dating.

Red A few people call her this, but mostly Jason and not real often. Probably cuz we already have a red-head often referred to as “Red” (Pam Isely by Harley) and as to not be confused with the other two Reds in the family (Red Hood and Red Robin).

The High Priestess of Tech More of a reference than a nickname, but I think it’s funny. Dick referred to her as such.

O For Oracle!

Dick Grayson Exclusives because Boyfriend Baby Love Beautiful

Richard Grayson

Dick Everyone calls him this. Almost no one calls him Richard.

Dickie His parents also called him this, along with other people who knew him from Haly’s Circus, but otherwise it’s mostly just Jason.

Dickster I…hate that this is canon lmao. Dick has thought this one in his inner monologue, but Jason has also said it at least once. It’s…Something.

Circus Boy Common insult, Jason uses it a few times.

Tight Ass No comment.

Rob Kinda rare for him and more a Tim thing, but his Titans team call him this sometimes. I specifically remember Wally doing so, and Roy too I think.

Boy Wonderful Not marking this as exclusive because Babs probably used it at one point but, shockingly (or not) this comes from Wally West! Wally has also called his Titans team as a group “Dear Hearts” at least once which is just so fucking cute. Neeeeeerd.

Kid Not exclusive to him, but consistently called this by Slade Wilson/Deathstroke over most anything else.

Marcia TIM DRAKE EXCLUSIVE. A joke between him and Tim, assigning each Bat-boy a Brady Bunch member.

Little Robin MARY GRAYSON EXCLUSIVE. This is where the hero name Robin came from; Dick’s mom used to call him this.

Dickie-Bird JASON TODD EXCLUSIVE. Jason calls Dick this a lot during his weird appearances in Nightwing that I pretend never happened because it was weird and dumb. But it is a canonical nickname. And it’s funny.

Amy Rohrbach Exclusives because Partner Rookie Stud Cowboy Sherlock Mr. Confident

Barbara Gordon Exclusives because Girlfriend (and because she’s funny) Flatterer Boyfriend The Brightest, Sweetest, Most Handsome, Wealthiest Young Bachelor on the Entire East Coast Buckaroo Bucko Candy-Gram Darling Lover Love Hunk Wonder Man Wonder Hound Wonder Former Teen Wonder Twenty Something Wonder Blue Wonder Poor Lovable Naïve Dope Pixie Boots

Cassandra Cain

Cass Pretty much everyone calls her this.

Cassie Some people call her this, specifically the people closest to her; Stephanie, Tim, Barbara, Bruce, and Duke. It’s generally used sparingly, especially considering Tim is close to ANOTHER Cassandra who goes by “Cassie” almost exclusively, so Cass is generally preferred to avoid confusion. But Cassie is tossed around.

Batghoul Possibly Stephanie Brown exclusive, though easy enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if others called her that. She is notoriously spooky.

Bat-Babe KON-EL/CONNER KENT EXCLUSIVE. These two are actually good friends and dated for a short time. They’re very cute. And they met at the time Kon was just…Like That.

Jason Todd

Jay Literally everyone calls him this sometimes. It’s a common nickname.

Jace/Jase Also pretty common, but seems to mostly be among family. Dick and Bruce have at least both called him this.

The Toddster Was called such by Danny Chase, implying they were friends somehow? (Jason didn't have many Titans missions so idk how they were close enough for him to call him that). He calls him that when he discovers Jason’s status in the system is “unknown”, leading him to find out he’s dead.

Rojo Referred to himself as this once while he was still a crime boss, so presumably some of his gang called him this too. Obviously Spanish for red because Red Hood.

Little Bird Possibly exclusive to Barbara Gordon, she called him this in a flashback.

Jan That Dick and Tim Brady Bunch joke. Just imagine one of them looking Jason dead in the eye and saying “Sure, Jan.”

Little Wing DICK GRAYSON EXCLUSIVE. Called Robin Jason this in Nightwing Year 1 and it’s very cute.

Jaybird ROY HARPER EXCLUSIVE. The reason I’m making this post because no one seems to remember that Roy and only Roy has ever called Jason this. But any time these two appear together, it’s usually said at least once.

Stephanie Brown

Steph Pretty much everyone calls her this at one point.

Stephie A few people if I recall, but I know Tim’s called her that.

Blondie Pretty sure a few people call her this, but notably Harper Row.

Damian Wayne Exclusives because He Was A Brat Wench Fatgirl Girl Blunder

Timothy Drake

Tim Everyone to the point where it’s just his name.

Timmy A lot of people call him this pretty teasingly. Dick, Jason, and Babs do it consistently, but that’s older siblings for ya. Bernard has done it too.

Timbo Dick and Jason as well as his friend Ives have called Tim this at the very least. Tim notably doesn't seem to like it, though he has used it himself in a derogatory way in his inner monologue.

Timbers I’ve only ever seen Jason call him this, but I could be missing things. Would not be surprised if Dick did too, but it’s very Jason.

Rob Most of Young Justice called him that up until he revealed his name (which took a while because Bruce was being controlling and overprotective, as he does). Short for “Robin”, obviously, which is all they knew him as.

My Robin I’m pretty sure each member of Young Justice has said this about Tim, though Conner does it the most and has the biggest negative reaction to literally anyone but Tim being Robin.

Cindy DICK GRAYSON EXCLUSIVE. It’s that Brady Bunch joke again!

Little Brother DICK GRAYSON EXCLUSIVE. I didn't originally include it because it had the same vibes as like "dude" or "jerk"; something that's easily tossed around, y'know? And it feels like a descriptor, but it is actually used as a title/nickname several times, especially when Dick is messing with Tim.

Pretender JASON TODD EXCLUSIVE. Though it should be noted, he only directly called him this one time. Aside from that, he more refers to Tim as A pretender, not as like a nickname or title. It’s a description. (like “replacement” was but fandom made that a nickname yes I am in fact bitter)

Duckboy HARLEY QUINN EXCLUSIVE. She says this once, but it’s hilarious so I’m keeping it.

Detective RA’S AL GHUL EXCLUSIVE. Ra’s is very particular about titles. The only other person he refers to as “Detective” is Bruce, and Dick one time in his internal monologue, so he is acknowledging Tim’s competence. And then proceeds to get a large portion of his resources obliterated by Tim <3

Stephanie Brown Exclusives because Girlfriend Sweetie Muffin Boy Virgin

Duke Thomas

Narrows Almost Jason exclusively, though I think Harper has called him this once or twice. In reference to the neighborhood he grew up in, as opposed to Jason and Harper's Park Row aka Crime Alley upbringing.

Newbie Jason calls him this frequently, though it's likely the others have too.

Baby Bird ELAINE THOMAS EXCLUSIVE. Yeah, surprisingly Duke is actually called this by his mom.

Damian Wayne

Gremlin Mostly exclusive to Tim, but Jason has called him this too. This also seems to be Tim’s go-to for Damian when not using his name or codename.

Dami Used by Jon Kent and Talia al Ghul, so presumably those closest to him.

Little D I think Barbara Gordon exclusive but I’m not sure.

Cousin Oliver Not said to his face to my knowledge, but the Brady Bunch in-joke between Dick and Tim.

Prince/Your Highness (other royal variations) A common way to mock Damian for his haughty air and stuck-up attitude. More common in the past because Damian was The Worst and never shut up about being the heir to Batman and the Demon's Head. He's grown a lot since then and this kind of joke is used less. He is still pretty snooty though.

D JON KENT EXCLUSIVE. I have yet to see anyone else call him this at least, and this is how Jon almost always refers to him.

Baby Bird TALIA AL GHUL EXCLUSIVE. I’ve seen her call him this once, and I don’t recall ever seeing anyone else call him this. Just wanted it known that Talia is the only one to call Damian this.

Tim Drake Exclusives because Tim is Petty and Damian was a Brat Little Monster Hobbit Homunculus Little snot Spoiled, vicious and homicidal little punk Heir to the Kingdom of the Damned

Note on how Damian refers to others: Damian usually uses full first names or surnames, depending on circumstance and closeness. He occasionally calls Dick “Dick” or “Richard”, but often calls him “Grayson”. He almost always refers to Tim as “Drake”, but occasionally as “Timothy”.

Fanon names that I dislike

Replacement Jason never once calls Tim this, and refers to Tim as A replacement about as much as Dick did about Jason (Yes Dick has at least once when talking to Bruce referred to Jason as his replacement). How common it is in this fandom to call Tim "Replacement" (with a capital R like it's a name or title!!!) drives me absolutely insane. It's not canon and tbh you can do better. Hell, "pretender" is right there! And Jason's a nerd, he would do better.

Baby Bird Like…it’s cute, but given it’s used in fanon almost exclusively for Tim, and POST DAMIAN, it just feels infantalizing. Especially when the only canon uses are mothers towards their kids. I see this a lot with Dick and Jason using it, which is...just no. Like, Dick, I get it, but he's more likely to call Tim "Little Brother". Jason would never allow himself to be seen as this soft to Tim. If he were trying to be gentle with him, he'd probably call him "kid". He's done that before.

Baby Bat(s) I have seen this used literally twice. Once where a goon mockingly called Tim that, and once in an AU where Harley said it to Damian. "Baby Bat" isn't a thing. Sorry.

Big Bird More amusing than anything but a little annoying. No one ever calls Dick that in canon and whenever I read it all I can think of is Sesame Street so unless a giant yellow muppet bird is what you're going for, maybe don't do that lol

Demon Brat/Demon Spawn Not the most egregious thing, especially considering the numerous nicknames Tim comes up with, but the consistency of its usage in fanon is a little frustrating. This is never used in-canon, and if you want to use it in your fanworks, just maybe intersperse it with other more creative nicknames, yeah? It's just unoriginal at this point.

Jaylad I don’t hate this one, but it’s such a huge misconception that it’s canon. Bruce has said “Jay, lad” a couple times because he calls like every boy he meets “lad” and people made up “Jaylad”. Not the worst thing ever, but it's not canon.

Golden Boy I don't actually have a problem with this one, but I may as well clear up that this is canon as a descriptor but not as a nickname for Dick. Like calling Jason "the dead Robin". Like, people have said that about him in-canon, but they haven't called him that. The common derivative "Goldie" is entirely fanon.

Non-canon nicknames I think are funny

Dick-face/Dickhead I’m sorry, I find it hilarious whenever someone (usually Jason) in fanfic calls him this. It’s also to me just a silly exaggeration of the obvious joke that has been made at least once (but probably several times by now) in canon about someone being about to call Nightwing a dick and someone else reminding them not to use names in the field. I think it’s hilarious.

Timberly I can’t tell you why this specific deviation of Tim is funny to me but it is. And I'm surprised I haven't seen Jason call Tim this in canon.